Chapter 79

Tianlang-jun’s body was in tatters. Zhuzhilang remained pinned to the cliff face. Master Wuchen supported a bleeding Wuwang. Mobei-jun held Shang Qinghua. Yue Qingyuan stood beside Shen Qingqiu.

Only Luo Binghe stood directly opposite the Xin Mo Sword, head bowed as he slowly adjusted his sleeves.

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice low. “Come here.”

Luo Binghe shook his head.

Just once. But it was firm.

A wave of bitter disappointment washed over Shen Qingqiu. “...You lied to me again.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe replied, “I said I would help you deal with Tianlang-jun. I can kill him for you right now. How can you say I lied?”

Tianlang-jun chuckled. “A clever move, nurturing a threat to strengthen your own position. Pity I proved too weak. In the end, he still has to step in himself.”

The phrase ‘nurturing a threat’ sent a fresh coil of unease through Shen Qingqiu’s gut.

Had Luo Binghe given Tianlang-jun the Xin Mo Sword on purpose?

Ever since acquiring the sword, the corruption of Tianlang-jun’s Luhua Mushroom body had accelerated wildly. Even with the sword, he posed little real threat to Luo Binghe now.

Perhaps his turmoil showed on his face, for Luo Binghe’s expression softened with something like sorrow. “Shizun, what are you thinking now? He did steal the Xin Mo Sword. It simply still recognizes me as its master. Why won’t you believe me?”

“I’ve believed you many times,” Shen Qingqiu said slowly. “Up until this very moment, I still wanted to.”

“Did you?” A twisted smile touched Luo Binghe’s lips. “But I can no longer believe you, Shizun.”

The smile was unnerving. Sensing the unstable shift in his mood, Shen Qingqiu softened his own expression and tone. “What’s wrong with you now?”

The moment he gentled his voice, Luo Binghe’s smile vanished.

He looked utterly heartbroken. “Shizun, I told you. You’re happiest when you’re with them.”

At first, Shen Qingqiu didn’t grasp who ‘them’ referred to.

Luo Binghe began to pace slowly before the cliff where the Xin Mo Sword was embedded.

“Every time I begged you to come away with me,” he said with a self-mocking laugh, “you never agreed. Not once. Even when you did, it was only because I forced you. But when they ask you to stay, you agree without hesitation.”

His eyes found Shen Qingqiu’s. “You don’t smile often, Shizun. I love to see you smile. But the thought that you only smile like that when you’re with them…” He trailed off, then finished in a near-whisper. “...It causes me immense pain.”

Finally, Shen Qingqiu understood.

‘Them’ meant Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

That day at the bamboo house, when Liu Qingge suddenly opened the window to check, he must have sensed Luo Binghe lingering outside.

He never left. He’d heard everything—the laughter, the cheerful conversation, Shen Qingqiu’s soft agreement. He’d committed it all to memory.

“Is that why you’re angry?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

“Angry?” Luo Binghe repeated, then spat out two venomous syllables. “I hate.”

“I hate myself!”

Clasping his hands behind his back, he quickened his agitated pacing.

“I hate my own uselessness. I hate that I can never keep anyone. That no one… has ever chosen me.”

The others in the cave remained still, wary of provoking him. With Luo Binghe currently sustaining the Xin Mo Sword’s energy, no one wanted to risk him lashing out.

Yue Qingyuan, however, spoke. “Are you saying you want him to choose between you?”

Luo Binghe halted. He shook his head. “Choose? No. This isn’t about a choice.”

“I know if he had to choose, Shizun would never pick me. So, the solution is simple. Remove the need for a choice altogether.”

A strange excitement flickered across Luo Binghe’s features, a flush of color staining his pale cheeks.

“I learned my lesson. If Cang Qiong Mountain Sect simply… ceased to exist, then Shizun would have only me left.”

Master Wuchen, unable to bear it, clasped his hands and murmured a Buddhist chant. “Patron Luo, you are lost in demonic obsession.”

Luo Binghe merely laughed. Master Wuchen continued, “With no possibility of choice, there is also no possibility of him abandoning you. But how could Peak Lord Shen ever come to terms with such an act?”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, his voice tender again. “If Qing Jing Peak is gone, I will build you another. You can resent me. You can hate me. I ask for nothing more. Whenever you’re unhappy, you can strike me, kill me—I cannot die. Just… just don’t leave me.”

He spoke with a terrifying sincerity. “Truly, that is my only wish.”

Shen Qingqiu’s throat was parched, his mouth bitter. He couldn’t find the words.

He was finally certain. Luo Binghe’s mind had shattered.

His pupils were unfocused, the red within them swelling and receding. His smile was a grotesque contortion. This was the true face of madness, of reason utterly lost. The Xin Mo Sword blazed with violet light. It was impossible to tell if he controlled the sword, or if the sword now controlled him.

Zhuzhilang spoke suddenly, his voice weak. “Aside from Cang Qiong Mountain, there are countless things in this world that Immortal Master Shen cares for. Must you destroy them all?”

Luo Binghe smiled pleasantly. “Yes? Why not!” His head tilted, his demeanor shifting to something dark and vicious. “Silence him!”

Mobei-jun, upon hearing this, considered for a moment, then drove his fist into Zhuzhilang’s face.

Tianlang-jun watched Luo Binghe, pity flashing in his eyes. “...The Xin Mo Sword has eroded his mind. He is truly mad.”

Luo Binghe smiled and nodded. “Correct. I am mad.”

Hearing him admit it outright sent a convulsive, dull ache through Shen Qingqiu’s heart.

“Binghe,” he said softly. “Step away from the sword. Move back.”

As he coaxed gently, his hand secretly found the hilt of Xiu Ya beneath his wide sleeve. Luo Binghe laughed. “It’s useless, Shizun. There’s no need for that. The kinder you are to me, the more afraid I become.”

As he spoke, he made a slight lifting gesture with his right hand. Instantly, the violet energy around the Xin Mo Sword intensified.

Zhuzhilang coughed up a mouthful of clotted blood. The punch had only quieted him briefly. He said calmly, “Pitiful.”

“Pitiful?” Luo Binghe echoed. “Yes, I am pitiful. Even if it’s only out of pity, Shizun, could you stay by my side just once?”

Tears streamed down his face.

His pupils burned crimson as he gritted his teeth. “You always let me go. Again and again.”

“Every single time! Anyone, anything—it’s always a reason for you to cast me aside. Every time, it’s the same!”

Suddenly, Shang Qinghua thudded to the ground. Shen Qingqiu instinctively braced himself against the cave wall.

The entire floor began to tremble violently.

The Burial Mounds’ descent was accelerating!

“Shidi,” Yue Qingyuan said, his tone flat. “He is insane. What will you do?”

Luo Binghe sneered, took two steps back, and seized the hilt of the Xin Mo Sword.

The tremors grew stronger. Through the cave opening, countless mountain peaks of varying heights could be seen emerging from the rolling clouds. Shen Qingqiu moved to summon Xiu Ya, but a blinding white light flashed beside him. Yue Qingyuan had drawn his sword first.

The shriek of the blade tore through the swirling snow and violet-black miasma.

Xuan Su was unleashed!

Seeing Yue Qingyuan’s sword aimed at Luo Binghe, Mobei-jun moved to intercept. Xuan Su’s spiritual power surged. Before their blades could even meet, the force blasted Mobei-jun backward.

He seemed genuinely shocked that he could be sent flying, his face frozen in that expression as he plummeted over the edge of the Burial Mounds. Shang Qinghua, horrified, grabbed a sword and lunged forward. Shen Qingqiu caught his arm. “What are you doing?!”

“Damn it, he can’t fly!” Shang Qinghua roared, and leaped after him.

Bracing against the blizzard and howling wind, Shen Qingqiu peered down through the gap. A hundred zhang above the icy river below, he saw Shang Qinghua on a flying sword, catching Mobei-jun in mid-air.

Before Shen Qingqiu could even sigh in relief, he whirled back around. Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan were now locked in direct combat.

Luo Binghe’s explosive power was terrifying, but Shen Qingqiu hadn’t anticipated the sheer might of Xuan Su fully unleashed. It held its own against Luo Binghe in his frenzied state. The very air vibrated with clashing spiritual and demonic power, a pressure that made Shen Qingqiu’s eardrums throb and his throat constrict.

Seeing the cave was on the verge of collapse, he lunged for the cliff face. Gripping the Xin Mo Sword with his bare hands, he wrenched it free!

But even with the sword removed, the Burial Mounds’ descent didn’t slow. Luo Binghe moved to reclaim it. Yue Qingyuan gave him no opening. The tip of Xuan Su traced a visible, dazzling arc in the air. A massive barrier formed, intricate seal scripts weaving an invisible cage around Luo Binghe.

Seeing Shen Qingqiu held the sword, Yue Qingyuan commanded, “Go!”

Go?! Shen Qingqiu shook his head immediately, about to toss the Xin Mo Sword to him, when the ground beneath his feet gave way.

Not his legs—the floor itself.

The cave was finally collapsing.

*

The Second Level of the Burial Mounds.**

Shen Qingqiu dug Yue Qingyuan out from a pile of rubble. “Sect Leader? Senior Brother? Senior Brother!”

Yue Qingyuan’s face was pale, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. He swallowed, as if forcing down a mouthful of hot blood.

He opened his eyes and looked at Shen Qingqiu. “...The others?”

The interior of the Burial Mounds was like an irregular honeycomb, one cavern leading to another. Shen Qingqiu glanced around. “I don’t see Master Wuchen or Tianlang-jun. They might be buried here, or they might have fallen into another chamber with the collapse.”

He turned back. “Senior Brother, when were you injured?”

Yue Qingyuan ignored the question. “Do you still have the Xin Mo Sword?”

Shen Qingqiu showed it to him. “Yes. But the Burial Mounds are still falling. The merger isn’t complete. Senior Brother, take the sword down and destroy it.”

With Shen Qingqiu’s help, Yue Qingyuan slowly stood. “...And you?”

I’m going back for Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu avoided the question. “Senior Brother, how did you get this injury?”

Yue Qingyuan didn’t answer the question. “I never meant to,” he said instead. “But I… in the end, I’m someone who acts on impulse.”

The statement struck Shen Qingqiu as odd, but he had no mind to dwell on it. He kept supporting his Sect Leader. “Can you walk, Senior Brother? Go down first. Destroy the sword. Find Junior Brother Mu. Leave Luo Binghe to me.”

With Shen Qingqiu’s help, Yue Qingyuan struggled to his feet. Fresh blood dripped onto the stone. Thinking he was steady, Shen Qingqiu released his hold.

The moment he let go, Yue Qingyuan’s legs gave way. He collapsed.

Shen Qingqiu’s face paled. He rushed to haul him up again. “Senior Brother? Senior Brother!”

Yue Qingyuan’s gaze was distant, as if he hadn’t heard. His voice was low. “During the siege at Jinlan City, and when Luo Binghe surrounded the mountain… I held back then. For the greater good. But looking back… it would have been better… to have acted on impulse.”

He was fading. Shen Qingqiu desperately wanted to pinch the man’s philtrum to shock him awake, but he didn’t dare overstep. Instead, he spoke loudly into his ear. “Senior Brother, stay awake! What you did was right!”

Yue Qingyuan closed his eyes and shook his head.

He drew a ragged breath, then broke into another fit of coughing that made Shen Qingqiu’s heart clench.

Blood flowed freely with each cough. With great effort, Yue Qingyuan managed, “Help me… sheathe Xuan Su.”

Shen Qingqiu scrambled for the fallen sword, its blade blazing with a harsh white light. He forced it back into its scabbard and handed it over. Only then did some color return to Yue Qingyuan’s face. He caught his breath.

But he didn’t take the sword. He stared blankly at Shen Qingqiu’s hand holding the sheathed Xuan Su. “If I fall here… please… return Xuan Su to the Ten Thousand Swords Peak for me.”

Shen Qingqiu jolted. “What are you saying?”

Fall? Was Yue Qingyuan’s injury truly this severe? Was he really at death’s door?

“Xuan Su holds immense power,” Yue Qingyuan said, his voice weak. “Yet I never draw it to face an enemy. You must have wondered why.”

Shen Qingqiu nodded. He had. Many had.

“Xuan Su… is my life. Do you understand what that means?”

He didn’t. Not at all.

But Shen Qingqiu knew it wasn’t a metaphor. He also knew what was coming next was a secret Yue Qingyuan had never shared with anyone.

Sure enough, Yue Qingyuan continued, “Every time I draw Xuan Su… it consumes my lifespan.”

The words hit Shen Qingqiu like a physical blow. The sheathed sword in his hand suddenly felt as heavy as a mountain.

No wonder he only draws it as a last resort.

Using one’s lifespan to fuel spiritual power. Binding one’s very life to a sword.

Why would Yue Qingyuan cultivate such a demonic path?

“Senior Brother, you…” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was thick with shock. “Did you suffer a Qi Deviation?”

Yue Qingyuan spoke slowly, each word an effort. “I entered Qing Jing Peak at fifteen. My heart was set on something. I was impatient, desperate for results. I sought the realm of man and sword as one… but failed. This was the result. The opposite of what I sought. A lifelong regret.”

As he spoke, the faint flush from his coughing faded completely, leaving his face deathly pale. Shen Qingqiu cut him off. “Don’t talk. This isn’t the time. I’m taking you down. We’ll find Junior Brother Mu.”

They managed a few painful steps before Yue Qingyuan whispered, “…I’m sorry.”

Sorry for what? Yue Qingyuan had nothing to be sorry for. If anything, it was Shen Qingqiu who was always causing trouble, always dragging him down.

But Yue Qingyuan’s next words froze the very air in Shen Qingqiu’s lungs.

His voice trembled. “…Truly… I’m sorry.”

“I only wanted to return faster… to go and fetch you immediately… but I only made things worse. In the end, I’m someone who acts on impulse…”

“After that, our master confined me to the Lingxi Cave for over a year. Shattered my bones, severed my meridians. Started everything from scratch.”

“I tried my hardest. But by the time I could go back… the Qiu Manor… had long been in ruins…”

Something deep in Shen Qingqiu’s mind shattered.

His entire worldview.

In an instant, every instance of Yue Qingyuan’s earnest concern, his silent protection—every scene, every detail—flashed through his mind with crystalline clarity.

No wonder the original “Shen Qingqiu” could court death again and again, yet the Sect Leader never once made things difficult for him. Only offered boundless tolerance, endless forbearance.

No wonder Shen Jiu never saw the person who came back to save him.

Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu.

Yue Qi, Shen Jiu.

So that’s how it is. That’s how it is!

“I truly… never meant not to return,” Yue Qingyuan murmured. “I just… missed my chance… by a hair’s breadth…”

With every word, more blood welled up. Shen Qingqiu half-dragged him, stopping every other step. “Stop talking,” he gritted out.

He knew what happened later.

But Yue Qingyuan insisted. “This time… let me finish.”

“As you’ve always said… ‘I’m sorry’ is just empty words. Utterly useless. I never explained. Telling you today isn’t to seek forgiveness. It’s just… if I don’t say it now… I fear it will truly be too late.”

A sour ache spread through Shen Qingqiu’s chest. His eyes grew hot.

Too late.

It was already too late!

Shen Jiu was gone.

Maybe dead. Maybe his soul had transferred to another, unfamiliar world, like Shen Yuan’s had.

But no matter what, he would never hear Yue Qingyuan’s words.

The System chimed in with a series of cheerful notifications:

【 Hidden Character 1: Zhuzhi Lang. Completion: 100% 】

【 Hidden Character 2: Tianlang Jun. Completion: 100% 】

【 Plot Hole 1: Shen Qingqiu. Completion: 100% 】

【 Plot Hole 2: Yue Qingyuan. Completion: 100% 】

【 Character completion rate meets basic standards. No major logical flaws detected by system. +300 B-Points for each individual item. Total: 1200. Congratulations on upgrading from “Slightly Cringe” to “Readable During Famine.” Medal awarded. 】

【 Coolness Points reset to zero. Under these circumstances, B-Points may be used to substitute for the conditions required for key item drops. Do you accept? 】

The announcements were overwhelmingly positive, brimming with false cheer. Shen Qingqiu had never felt more desolate.

“What’s the point?” he said to the air.

The System, of course, didn’t answer. From the bottom of his heart, Shen Qingqiu gave the interface a double middle finger.

Your entire family can explode, System!

What the hell was this System? What was the point?

Was it just to show him how unlucky these people could be? To make him personally witness every kind of cruel, tragic bullshit the world had to offer?

Or was it to make him drive Luo Binghe mad?

Everyone said Luo Binghe was already insane. Even he himself admitted it with a smile.

In the original work, after millions of words of struggle, Luo Binghe had ultimately suppressed the Xin Mo Sword. Here, the sword had gained the upper hand, corroding Luo Binghe’s mind.

It wasn’t caused by one or two things. It was accumulated bit by bit, until it finally erupted. There had been many signs before, but Shen Qingqiu had never noticed.

Or rather, he’d never known that deep down, Luo Binghe was so insecure, so full of self-doubt.

First, he had thought Luo Binghe too evil. Later, he had thought him too sunny and resilient.

Looking back now, the signs of the Xin Mo Sword’s erosion had first appeared at Zhaohua Temple.

Luo Binghe, freshly learning of his origins, had been deeply shaken. In that moment of utter panic, he had reached out to Shen Qingqiu, begging him to leave together.

But Shen Qingqiu hadn’t taken his hand. He’d told Luo Binghe to go on alone.

That was when Luo Binghe’s mental state had begun its extreme destabilization. What he needed wasn’t safe evacuation. It was to be with Shen Qingqiu. Even if it meant being trapped in Zhaohua Temple, even if it meant being besieged by everyone present—it would have been better than being sent away alone!

To Luo Binghe in that state of mind, it was no different from abandonment.

A repeat of the scene when Su Xiyan took the medication, desperate just to see Tianlang Jun.

Just as Luo Binghe had said with his own mouth, he wasn’t forcing anyone to choose.

Because Luo Binghe was bone-deep convinced he already knew the answer: Shen Qingqiu would abandon him one day.

His mind was filled with a near-paranoid fear and anxiety over something that hadn’t even happened. How could that be anything but utterly, completely mad?

Yue Qingyuan’s steps grew weaker, until he could barely stand.

It seemed the brief moment Xuan Su had been drawn had taken a tremendous toll on him in every way. Shen Qingqiu had never seen the Sect Leader so frail.

Yue Qingyuan had always been steady and strong. Even when he spoke little, with no aggression, gentle and kind—he was utterly reliable, never lacking in dignity.

Now, not only could he hardly walk, but he was speaking more than usual. He must truly believe he couldn’t hold on much longer.

Shen Qingqiu was practically dragging him forward. “Senior Brother, hang on. Don’t you dare pass out. Everything will be fine soon.”

Yue Qingyuan stared ahead, dazed. “All these years… you’ve never spoken of the past. You’ve only ever called me Senior Brother. Have you decided… never to call me ‘Seventh Brother’ again?”

The tendons in Shen Qingqiu’s hand, still gripping the sword, stood out starkly.

Yue Qingyuan wanted to hear Shen Jiu call him Seventh Brother.

But he wasn’t Shen Jiu!

Channeling the original goods’ cold, resentful demeanor, he refused flatly. “No.”

Don’t set up a death flag!

Look at all those characters in stories who fulfilled a last wish—the moment their wish was granted, they kicked the bucket.

“I didn’t hear a word of what you just said,” Shen Qingqiu said, his voice hard. “Stay awake. We’re going down.”

Yue Qingyuan closed his eyes. A sigh escaped him. “Xiao Jiu…”

Stop calling me that.

He couldn’t bear to dwell on the original tale—the one where Luo Binghe had severed “Shen Qingqiu’s” legs, boxed them in silk, and sent them to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. What state of mind had Yue Qingyuan been in, knowing full well it was a trap with no return, when he walked into Luo Binghe’s snare without hesitation, only to be pierced by ten thousand arrows?

A lifetime’s worth of loyalty, repaid with so much suffering.

Yue Qingyuan hadn’t even had the chance to tell the hate-filled, desperate “Shen Qingqiu”—the one who helped Luo Binghe lure him into that trap just to cling to a few more moments of life—the reason why he never came to fetch him all those years ago.

Why hadn’t he said it sooner?

It was the same with him and Luo Binghe. Why hadn’t he spoken earlier?

If, from the very beginning, there had been less assumption and taking things for granted, Luo Binghe might never have fallen into darkness at all. He might have remained forever that shy, obedient disciple on Qing Jing Peak.

Even taking a step back—back when he’d kicked Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss—he could have chosen another way to achieve his goal.

Truth be told, it might not have required any effort at all. Only now did Shen Qingqiu understand: if he had simply asked Luo Binghe to jump, the boy would likely have obeyed without question.

The possibility had never crossed Shen Qingqiu’s mind before. He hadn’t believed anyone could be that foolish, or that Luo Binghe could be that docile.

But in reality, he really had been that foolish. That obedient.

Round and round he’d gone, taking so many detours, circling this vast loop until he stood bewildered, unsure how to proceed, left with nothing but the bitter regret of “if only I’d known.”

But this world had no “if only I’d known.”

As they rounded the bend of the cavern, two dust-covered figures suddenly came into view.

The sight of two perfectly round, gleaming bald heads made the words tumble from Shen Qingqiu’s lips. “Master Wuchen. Master Wang.”

The shorter monk supporting the taller one was indeed Master Wuchen. One of his wooden prosthetic legs was missing, forcing him to hobble awkwardly on a single limb. With no free hand to press together in greeting, he compensated by murmuring several extra chants. “Amitabha. Peak Lord Shen, we have found you at last. What has happened to Sect Leader Yue?”

Yue Qingyuan had closed his eyes and now slumped heavily against Shen Qingqiu, consciousness fading. “Sect Leader… was struck on the head by falling rock,” Shen Qingqiu explained. “And Master Wang?”

“Injured by the demonic energy of that Tianlang-jun. He has not yet awakened. After the cave-in, those other demons… they have all vanished.”

Shen Qingqiu drew Xiu Ya and offered it hilt-first. “Master, might I trouble you to take my Senior Brother and Master Wang and fly them out of Burial Bone Ridge?”

“And Peak Lord Shen?”

“My disciple,” Shen Qingqiu said, his words clipped. “I will deal with him.”

Master Wuchen’s expression grew solemn. “If the Peak Lord is willing to face this directly, that is for the best.”

“A shameful admission. I only seek to end this before the consequences become irreparable. I entrust Sect Leader Yue to you. Please, once you descend, deliver him to Junior Brother Mu of Qian Cao Peak as quickly as possible. I would be deeply grateful.”

Master Wuchen carefully laid Master Wang down and accepted Xiu Ya, offering a formal bow. Suddenly, he spoke again. “All inner demons arise from obsession.”

Shen Qingqiu paused. “Is the Master suggesting that to eliminate an inner demon, one must sever that obsession?”

But Wuchen shook his head. “If it could be severed, it would not be an obsession.”

“I thought as much.” Shen Qingqiu returned the bow and turned away.

After all, he was Luo Binghe’s obsession.